


It Doesn't Help Me

by sirfrost



Category: Blur (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirfrost/pseuds/sirfrost
Summary: Hopefully the first fic in a series of Gramon moments throughout the years. I love this pairing to death and would love to contribute to the number of fics that exist about them.Might not be completely accurate when it comes to the real-life timeline and events.Edit: discontinued series.





	It Doesn't Help Me

_When Damon first cut his hair shorter, getting rid of the bowl cut. Post-Leisure, pre-MLIR._

All of the band members except Damon were gathered for a night of drinking, already seated in a local bar while waiting for the final musician. Before they had time to complain about his absence a second time, the front door was opened and the blonde in question walked with confidence straight towards his friends.  
“Having a good time without me?” the singer asked sarcastically to the rest of the band, as he sat down at their small table in the dimly lit pub. Dave, Alex and Graham had already finished their first drinks and were now on round two, having been too impatient to wait for the blonde. The place was a bit run-down and smelled strongly of Scotch and beer, but had been their go-to place for years. Faithful customers didn’t just abandon their favourite drinking place.  
“Yeah, it’s such a relief not having to hear your voice all the time. Nice hair, you actually look your age now,” Dave answered with a matching smile and took a sip from his beer. Alex laughed while Graham smiled lightly and nodded to Damon as a greeting.  
“What’s this, your fifth?” he inquired mockingly with a hand gesture towards the others’ drinks.  
“No, you twat, our 11th. You should catch up,” the bass player replied with even more irony and took a drag of the cigarette in his hand, where he practically always had one lit and ready.  
“Whatever, I was busy getting my hair cut, which is more than can be said for you,” was the mocking reply as the frontman stood up again.  
“I’m gonna get a beer,” he explained and put a hand on Graham’s shoulder.  
“Hey, do you want one? I see you’re almost finished there”, Damon asked and nodded towards the nearly empty glass in front of the guitarist.  
“Uh, sure. Yeah, thanks,” was the hazy reply in the middle of biting his fingernails. Graham was often tense around other people, but now it had gotten worse; Damon looks so bloody good without the bowl cut, he thought, trying not to seem more nervous than usual. He had always considered Damon good-looking for as long as they had known each other, but lately the attraction had grown a tad more than Graham thought he could conceal. The blonde had already left them to make his way towards the bar, but Dave and Alex seemed to pick up on Graham’s mood.

“How are you, Graham? You’re usually more relaxed after a couple of drinks,” the taller one inquired.  
“I’m fine, I’m just not in a social mood today,” he bluffed without making eye contact.  
“Alright, you don’t have to stay out late for our sake,” Dave assured him.  
“I’ve gotta admit Damon looks so much more serious now with the short hair. I don’t know what to think about it,” Alex stated as he kept smoking as if his life depended on it.  
“Who cares, anything’s better than the long hair he had before,” the drummer commented. “Even I got my hair cut, it was about time,” Alex added with a laugh.  
“I think he looks good,” Graham remarked, eyes still glued to the table.  
“What looks good? A bird?” Damon asked loudly as he placed two beers on the table and sat down again, a little bit too close to Graham to be a coincidence.  
“Uh, no. Your hair. Your hair looks good,” he explained with slight unease and gripped the pint of beer in front of him.  
“Oh. Thanks, I’m happy with it,” the blonde replied cheerfully, seemingly not noticing the awkwardness, or perhaps choosing to ignore it. Graham started drinking his beer very eagerly to distract and stop the conversation from continuing. 

The evening went on and two drinks became at least five for all of them, the conversation drifting from topics such as ideas for their second album to their future tour in the US.  
A few of games of pool were influenced by too much alcohol to be called actual pool, and Damon managed to do some flirting with a couple of girls. However, it seemed more like a way of passing time and not like there was an actual spark. That didn’t stop Graham from feeling pangs of jealousy in his stomach, which he chose to ignore and not reflect on. Was he too possessive when it came to his best friend? After all, the women seemed more interested in Damon than he seemed to be interested in them.

In the end, the four of them were all standing outside the pub, each with a cigarette in hand and talking loudly.  
“I’ve called for a taxi to take me home and drop Dave off along the way, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to walk straight all the way home,” Alex stated while still laughing at a previous joke Damon had just told.  
“Yeah, me neither, and I’m bloody tired as well,” the drummer filled in.  
“Lazy wankers. I don’t want to sleep just yet. Gra, may I walk you home? It would add an additional 15 minutes to the amazing night I’m having,” the frontman asked with an excessively posh tone towards the end. The other hesitated before replying.  
“Yeah, why not,” he said with a genuine smile, notably more relaxed now after more drinking.  
“Get him home safe now, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to our precious little Graham,” the bass player filled in with a smirk, to which the guitarist responded by scrunching up his nose.  
“No worries, I’ll take good care of him,” Damon declared and ruffled Graham’s hair.  
“Tossers,” the brunette whispered under his breath, although he kept smiling. Just as the others were ready to strike back, a taxi pulled up next to them with a slight screech.  
“Well, that’s our ride, boys. See you at the studio tomorrow, yeah?” Alex asked and tossed what was left of his cigarette on the ground.  
“‘Course, you’d be nothing without me,” the blonde snapped back, sporting his typical shit-eating grin.  
“Fuck off, Damon. See you,” Dave sighed as he and the tall chain smoker got into the car. 

“Well then, time to go,” the singer stated while putting his arm around Graham’s shoulder, making the other walk with him.  
“You’re such a wanker after a few drinks. Do you know that?” the brunette inquired with a laugh, unknowingly leaning into Damon’s half-embrace.  
“I’ve been told a few times, yeah,” he replied and smiled sweetly, seemingly completely relaxed and at ease. Their closeness kept the chilly night air at bay, the warm glow of the street lights illuminating their way through the city night. It was these types of serene moments that they both would remember and treasure for future hard times, in their minds going back to when everything was easier. Distant traffic made up the background noise but no cars could be seen on the streets they were walking on - not even other pedestrians. The two kept talking and joking about any subject that came up, even bringing up childhood memories from their time together in school. 

After a while they finally arrived at Graham’s small house in the outskirts of London’s suburbs, the road as empty as before, giving the impression of the two of them being completely alone in the universe.  
“...so I think the music videos we can produce for these new tracks would be really fun to make, especially the one about the Sunday family dinner,” Damon continued talking about their future projects. The guitarist simply agreed with him, not being too into making music videos, but wanting to please and support what the singer wanted to put together.  
“Sure, I’m all for it,” was his reply as they both were standing outside Graham’s front door in the fluorescent light of the porch lamp.  
“Great! I’m sure Dave and Alex will be on board, too. Well, this is yours,” he announced, seemingly unsure how to continue and say goodbye to the other.  
“Yeah. Text me when you get home so I know you haven’t been kidnapped,” the brunette joked and put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.  
“Sure, I’ll do that, thanks,” Damon responded with a half smile, simply standing in front of the other and not making a move to walk away.  
“Goodnight, Damon. I had a great night,” the guarist confessed with bright eyes.  
“Me too. Goodnight Gra,” he answered while he kept standing still. After a moment of a tad awkward silence, the blonde broke the tension and leaned forward to place a kiss on Graham’s cheek - very close to the edge of his mouth.  
“See you tomorrow!” he exclaimed and walked away with haste, leaving the other dumbfounded on the porch. Graham blinked and felt a creeping blush rise to his face. He didn’t know what to think of the gesture at all.


End file.
